


i do not think they will sing to me

by kyrilu



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Loneliness, M/M, Multi, Pre-OT3, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't help seeking them out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i do not think they will sing to me

Edward’s duty is to be invisible. To fade into the background, receding against doorways and windows, an unmoving wall of security. When Mr. Underwood tells him to be a rock, he agrees, and he understands. He stays vigilant and silent, speaking only when he’s needed or when he’s spoken to.

He’s there, his back ramrod straight and his eyes and ears taking in his surroundings.

 

 

He isn’t aware when, but somehow, he starts to reach out to them. He breaks his isolation. It’s an impulse tangled up with a kind of _want_ , perhaps. Want for company, want for conversation, want for something outside of what he has now.

There’s the man who can wield his power to move as many people as he wishes. The man who saved Edward’s job; who told him in little words to be strong. There’s the woman who charms the world with her smile and words. The woman who calls him _Edward_ without pause.

It’s true that he would be happy protecting them for the rest of his life, but he realizes that he wants those damned _moments_ , if he’s going to be giving his life to them, anyway. 

He catches them having them, those quiet moments, at the corner of his eyes. There are times when Mr. and Mrs. Underwood talk, hushed, in the blue of evening. Sometimes they don’t even use words at all, but they talk to each other with every breath – with each curl of cigarette smoke that drifts outside the open window, with every small angle and warmth of body language.

He wonders how it would be like. To have simple moments like those, and not the enforced, restrictive silence of a waiting guardian.

 

 

He knows, in reality, that it isn’t his place.

But then there’s that time when Mr. Underwood drags a chair out in the backyard. The townhouse is being renovated, full of people going back and forth, and he wants to be alone. The day’s been hard, and busy. He even orders Edward to go, although he can’t leave; he never really can.

Edward does his job. He stands at the doorway and does his best to not be intrusive.

In his peripheral vision, he watches Mr. Underwood lean back. Exhale.

The night is starting to creep in. Everything around dims, the air and the sky dropping into darkening colors. Grey and blue and black.

Edward feels himself breathing slowly, calmly, and sees something like peace on Mr. Underwood’s face.

(And that’s when he realizes that they’ve had their first quiet moment.)


End file.
